AN: Here's another chapter for those of you who are following along!

Just to let you know, we'll have time jumps and such coming up (of course) in future chapters, as things progress.

I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

111

"Your father never had the opportunity to have a great many conversations with you that I imagine he would have thought would come, eventually," Jean-Luc mused.

"No, sir, he didn't," Wesley said. "To be honest, I don't remember a lot of conversations with my father at all."

"I suppose you wouldn't," Jean-Luc said. "Of course—I never prepared to have a son, or a daughter, to whom I might impart the wisdom of my thoughts—or those that I might arrogantly believe are wise or wanted." He added the last part with a chuckle, and Wesley hesitated a moment before he, too, laughed. His laugh was a touch nervous, like he didn't trust, entirely, that he could laugh and not offend Jean-Luc who was, at this moment, both his captain and the man who sat across from him at the breakfast table.

"I wouldn't mind hearing some of your thoughts, Sir," Wesley offered.

Beverly pressed her hand over her mouth so that she wouldn't accidentally laugh and give away the fact that she was awake and present for this conversation.

Evidently, she'd been sleeping soundly when Jean-Luc had decided to call it a morning. Evidently, as well, Wesley had decided to get up early, since it still wasn't the hour when neither she nor Wesley would normally be awake. She wasn't sure how the two of them ended up as they were now—across the breakfast table from each other, each of them with a beverage, clearly waiting on her to wake and join them.

She didn't know, either, how long they'd been there. She'd only just emerged from the bedroom and, overhearing a snipped of the conversation, had practically flattened herself into the doorway as much as possible to remain unseen from the angle of either of the men in her life; neither of which had heard the sound of the door opening to allow her to pass through from the bedroom.

Jean-Luc hummed at Wesley, like he was considering what he might tell him and where he might begin with a lifetime of knowledge that, until this moment, he hadn't organized in any way to effectively share it with someone else.

"Perhaps—I'll simply tell you what's most on my mind at the moment," Jean-Luc offered.

"Yes, sir," Wesley said.

"With luck, Wesley, you will someday find someone who…someone who…completes you. It's a cliché, of course. A tired one, even. But, perhaps, the greatest cliches are so repeated because, in each of them, there is an element of truth. When you find that person, whoever they may be, treasure them."

"I'll do that, sir," Wesley said, adding the sir as an afterthought. "Do you—treasure my mother?"

Beverly argued with herself for a half of a second about announcing her presence, but she didn't make the decision in time to stop Jean-Luc from answering the question.

"I haven't," Jean-Luc said. "Not the way I should. However, one of the beautiful things about life, Wesley, is that it often allows us room to learn and to grow, if only we're not too stubborn and stuck in our ways to ignore the possibilities laid before us."

Beverly forced a quiet cough—one light enough to make it sound like she'd only just emerged from the bedroom, but loud enough that it might be overheard by either of the individuals who, so accustomed to the sound of the doors' mechanisms, had missed the only sound she'd made earlier to announce her presence.

As she stepped fully into their sight, making sure that her robe was tied securely over her pajamas, Jean-Luc stood up, and her heart felt like it skipped in response.

He met her, and she offered him a cheek to kiss, unsure of how he might feel about affection in front of Wesley and, admittedly, unsure of how Wesley might feel about affection between them. Wesley had seen his father be affectionate with Beverly, but he'd been very small then, and his memory of the affection was limited. He was a teenager, now, and she imagined that he might protest too much show of affection with breakfast.

Jean-Luc seemed to find what he thought of as middle ground. He kissed her cheek, his hands going to her waist affectionately, but he also brushed her lips with a soft kiss that Wesley could hardly protest with too much enthusiasm.

For his part, Wesley had stood, clearly following Jean-Luc's lead, to wait for Beverly to sit. Beverly caught Jean-Luc's eye as he quite literally escorted her to her seat and pulled her chair out for her, pushing it in as she sat. She smiled at him, and he winked.

"It's proper to sit, Wesley, now that the lady has been seated," Jean-Luc offered, giving Beverly some insight into what might have taken place in the time while she'd been sleeping.

"Am I interrupting something?" Beverly asked, looking at Wesley. His face, and even his ears, had gone pink, but he smiled at her.

"No ma'am," he offered. "Captain Picard was just teaching me some formal manners in case I'm ever going to Starfleet banquets and such."

"Wesley—would you care to help me with breakfast?" Jean-Luc asked, bringing some of the aforementioned breakfast with him from the replicator. He placed plates on the table.

"I can help, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. A firm hand on her shoulder communicated his request before his words did.

"That won't be necessary," he said. "Please, Beverly—allow me to take care of you."

Beverly felt her face grow warm when she made eye contact with Jean-Luc. His smirk communicated a great deal to her, as did the quick wink of his eye. Wesley was sure to miss it, even if he'd been there to see it instead of moving plates from the replicator, and he wouldn't know to what it was in reference.

Beverly had said nearly the same words to Jean-Luc when she'd woken him, once on her way back from the bathroom, to offer him help with his very particular morning problem. From his reaction, she was almost certain that Jean-Luc had never spent a night quite like they had to be followed by such a morning surprise, and Beverly didn't regret her choice at all.

She also wasn't going to criticize Jean-Luc's efforts as he put far too much breakfast in front of her—deciding along the way what he thought might provide her with all the proper nutrition she could get from one meal. Male egos, she knew well, could be tender, and she wasn't in the practice of saying or doing anything to break them just for sport. Jean-Luc's intentions were clearly pure and very good—she would honor them as such.

"Beverly…" He said, approaching her from behind, as Wesley finished moving things to the table. He rested his hand at the curve of her neck, and she felt the pressure of his finger drawing her attention to him before she felt the cold of the hypospray. She tipped her neck a little to make it easier for him, and also to let him know that she recognized what he was doing. After he injected her with the medicine, he kept his hand at the crook of her neck and massaged her muscle affectionately, grounding her as the wave of dizziness passed over. "OK?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Fine," she assured him, reaching a hand up and patting his. He squeezed her muscle once more and stepped away. When he returned, he sat down to his own breakfast, and Beverly accepted her fate as she decided where to start, so that she could eat most of what she wanted, while also at least trying Jean-Luc's additions to her requested meal.

"Are you really gonna eat all that, Mom?" Wesley asked, clearly enjoying his own breakfast.

"I'm going to try," she offered, hoping she came across enthusiastic and not sarcastic.

"That's really a lot of food," Wesley said.

"Your mother is eating for two," Jean-Luc offered.

Beverly hummed around a mouthful of food. Swallowing it, she spoke.

"While that's true, Jean-Luc, it's also misleading," Beverly said. He raised his eyebrows at her in question.

"Is it? Do enlighten me," he said. There wasn't a hint of sarcasm to his voice, and Beverly found herself smiling at his seemingly sincere desire to simply learn something more.

"The baby is very small," Beverly said. "The size of my fist, remember?" He nodded and hummed to press her to continue. "The additional calorie intake for the baby, at this point in my pregnancy, is probably three hundred to four hundred calories, Jean-Luc. And that's per day. Not per meal. So, you see, I'm not really eating for two, exactly. If I were to eat all of this..."

Jean-Luc's face reddened slightly.

"My apologies," he said. "I'd always heard…"

"It's not entirely untrue," Beverly said, interrupting him before he could feel too embarrassed. "There are two of us, and I do need to supplement my diet with more healthy foods, especially on days when I'm very active at work, it's only—it's not that I need to double my intake of food, the way the old adage makes it seem."

"It appears that, in my attempt to be…helpful…I have only managed to be overzealous again," Jean-Luc said.

He looked so sincerely chagrined that Beverly was immediately sorry that she'd said anything. A glance in Wesley's direction told her that her son even felt sorry for Jean-Luc and, perhaps, a little critical of her decision to say anything. She reached a hand out and patted Jean-Luc's arm as he reached for his tea cup to hide behind his breakfast.

"Wesley," Beverly offered, "cover your ears or…in choosing not to, accept that you hear whatever you hear."

Wesley blushed a little at the suggestion, but he also straightened himself up a little more properly in his chair and gave Beverly a bit of a disgruntled expression.

"I'm practically a man, Mom," he said. "I think I can handle any conversation."

Beverly swallowed back her amusement at the whole situation, and she looked at Jean-Luc, her hand still holding his arm.

"You are not overzealous," Beverly said. "You are…helpful, Jean-Luc. You are attentive. You are excited, even, and that makes me so happy." She laughed to herself at the way she felt just being able to say that. "You are affectionate. You are everything that I tell every partner, no matter their species, to try to be when someone asks me for advice about their expectant mate. And I appreciate that, and I appreciate you, and I never want to dissuade you to do exactly what you want to do, because it makes me happy to receive all of this…and anything else you want to offer me…from you." She squeezed his arm as she saw his expression soften. "I know what it's like to feel that I have nobody to take care of me, Jean-Luc, and…I'm enjoying being taken care of."

Jean-Luc reached and took her hand off his arm with his other hand. He worked her hand in his before raising it to his lips in the now-familiar gesture of a quick kiss.

"I don't mind admitting, even in the presence of Wesley, that I feel quite out of my league."

Beverly laughed to herself.

"That's OK," she said, winking at him. "Because—everywhere I turn, you're…you're hitting home runs, Jean-Luc." He smiled at her, and she shook her head at him. "I only said what I said to clear up the myth. But if you'd rather I didn't…"

"I want to learn everything I can about the baby. About you," Jean-Luc insisted.

"Fine," Beverly agreed. "But—don't make me miss you taking care of me. Not when I just let myself start getting used to it."

Jean-Luc's smile widened with sincerity.

"It's my understanding that gentle exercise is not frowned upon," Jean-Luc said. "And fresh air—even that produced by filters—is recommended for expectant mothers. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"You're not," Beverly said.

"Then—would you join me for a short walk on the holodeck after breakfast?" Jean-Luc asked. "To help with the digestion before you take our little one to work and I'm due on the bridge?"

Beverly smiled at him.

"I would love to," she assured him. She looked at Wesley. "Wesley…"

"Don't look at me," he said, shaking his head at his plate. Beverly wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or not. He wasn't acting horrified, but he looked like he'd be pleased to escape the breakfast table. "I've got a lot of things to do that don't involve following you two around all morning."

Beverly laughed, and Jean-Luc did, too.

"Very well," Jean-Luc said. "Wesley—we'll release you as soon as you're ready to find better company. Beverly, eat what pleases you, but please don't feel pressured to eat all of that."

"Don't worry," Beverly said. "I don't think I could eat all of it if I wanted, but I'm certainly going to eat all that I want. Your choices were perfect."